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Category Archives: Gender and Sex

My sexuality is: label-my-sexual-orientation-and-I-will-mangle-that-label. It is safe to just say sexually fluid though that is description is so vague and overused that it is basically meaningless. That’s why I add suffixes to my sexual-fluid label.

Sexual fluid, like gender fluid, means however I feel in one moment doesn’t define my entire self. How aroused I am by submission, bdsm, masochism, trans* individuals, cis individuals, phallus genitals, vaginal genitals, anal sex, vaginal sex, age play, etc is not a static experience. Even an evaluation of my sexual history will only give someone a glimpse of my sexual preferences because it is not filled with experiences that match the ideal. The ideal would be to have a girlfriend and have gay sex. Maybe even a lesbian triad. However, those aren’t my experiences — my experiences are mostly straight.

I have a boyfriend that I am in love with. And some of my best sex has been with him. This, plus similar experiences, proves that I am not a lesbian. Despite this, I feel like part of me is missing without that lesbian relationship that is in my ideal. This incompleteness in my relationship is what opens me up to polyamoury.

Kink is technically the sexual attraction to anything other then vaginal sex. But that definition reeks of homophobia and misogyny. When I say kink I am talking about sexual attraction to anything to other then sex with genitals. For me that’s bondage and restraint, sadism and masochism, dominance and submission, age play and pet play, and all the other tropes. For a long time I defined my sexual orientation purely in terms of kink. The gender and sex of my partner wasn’t important as much as their role as a Top. Since I started switching and being more grey in my power role that’s no longer true. But kink is still a large part of the way I relate to the sexual world.

Lesboqueer is a cute nickname I just made up. I’m sure other people have thought of it as well but it just came to me. Alternatives to lesboqueer would be: pansexual, homoflexible, or lesbian (alternatively: i’m a lesbian just a really bad lesbian). I have used all these descriptors as well.

Pansexual is way more preferable to bisexual. Bisexual would be dumbing down my sexuality too much. However, even pansexual isn’t a complete truth. I am sexually attracted to genders that are not in the gender binary however I am not equally attracted to all genders, I am unsure if I am attracted to all genders, and

My sexuality is: Any excuse to use the genderqueer seahorse icon.

gender does play a large part in my sexual orientation. I am far too interested in women for me to earnestly call myself pansexual.

The issue I have with homoflexible or lesbian is that it defines my gender as female. This is something I’m increasingly distancing from. Especially in my own cognition. In my mind I don’t want to box my own gender. Let it be free at least there.

Lesboqueer is basically a way for me to call myself a lesbian and genderqueer at the same time. But having a prefix of sexual fluid means I’m not really a lesbian all the time. And that’s how I solved the logic problem of my sexual orientation. Check, mate!

The first draft of my novel, The Purple People Eaters, was completed a year ago today. The novel is about a paranormal alternative universe where a lolita siren becomes a famous pop star that captures America’s libido. The books stars a hard-working Brooklynite who quits her job to find allies and form a revolution against the very horny and morally corrupt society that the siren’s curse created. I’m currently in the middle of the second-draft.

Since the novel’s birth, I have created a number of additional dark fantasies that all make me really wonder about my own sanity. Why is everything I create something to be ashamed of? Why can’t I write something that I can share with my family? Why is everything not just sexual but extremely dark and corrupt? What would it be like to write a happy story?

Like most of these blog posts, I wold be lying if I had any answer to the questions I propose. At times, I love my writing and I love my darkness. I love myself for my darkness. I protrude coal-black truths in my thoughts and in my writing and I would really enjoy creating a community where these metaphors and these morbidities are discussed openly. This is one of the motivations to complete and publish my work.

But when these writings go out, I am going to get so much flak. Hell, I have some legal issues with even getting pieces out there in the first place, so much so that I will commercialize my work to an extent. For example, I am in the process of bumping the age of my siren to eighteen. This is because I don’t want to get arrested or banned from Amazon/Smashwords. But even with those changes, my book will still be very dark. Someone will accuse me for being mentally ill and when that happens I can’t even disagree. I am mentally ill. I do have social anxiety, panic attacks, and chronic depression (Yeah, I am super fun). This does create the way I see the world and thus the art I create. But that doesn’t mean I am an example for every mentally ill person.

Besides a horror-writer, I am also a queer person. Though I have been very close with many straight people where this isn’t the case, there have been

times where I have been backed in a questioning corner for being queer by straight “allies”. When I have been out to them, then I instantly become this giant example of how queer people are. How “bisexual” people are. (Dumbing down your identity 101) How kinky people are. How polyamorous people are. How genderqueer people are. And I instantly become the pinnacle queer person and everything I say or do stems from that. Even though I am one of millions, and we all have our own backgrounds and point of views– even though we are complex multidimensional human beings. We become flattened to queerness. A one size fit all package.

And the frustrating guilt I feel for affirming any stereotype! I am particularly concerned with being polyamorous and “bisexual” and affirming the ideas that all bisexuals are promiscuous and indecisive. But though I’m concerned over this, I am not interested in the slightest to force myself in a relationship structure that I am uncomfortable with just because I’m concerned with what straight people think. I am going to be me, not an example for straight people.

So I’m going to come full circle with my book. I have a lot of guilt with my morbid writing but I also really enjoy it. Not only do I find it fun, but it is like therapy. In exploring my imagination, I find others that connect with it. Should I stop doing what I enjoy because others might think I’m mentally ill? When they find out that I actually AM mentally ill and judge me for it, should I stop doing what I enjoy then? Writing is akin to breathing. I’m not going to stop breathing because I’m going to offend someone.

I’m not really hurting anyone here. There are destructive elements to my novel however they are impossible to replicate because they are layered with fantasy and horror. And these destructive elements are also sociopolitical commentaries about empathetic intelligence, equality, care and compassion, and community forming. These are not themes of a book that shouldn’t be written or published. These are themes I should– that I will be proud and confident about.

I enjoy being queer. At times my traditional background makes it difficult, but in moments of true queer expression, I am more honest with my strengths, beauties, and intricacies. The stuff I love.

The secret to horror writing is to apply these same self-assured attitudes.

I dislike the notion that I like feminine things because I am a girl. Though there probably has been some estrogen influence in my gender I do not think that my vagina excretes a longing for puppies and romcoms.

I love wearing skirts! Dresses! Tights! I go to a store and don’t even really see the boy section. It isn’t that I dress this way because I’m a girl and I have to wear female clothes but because I truly dislike boy clothes. It is bland and boring and girl clothes are creative, diverse, and exciting.

This one is kind of complicated but in the kink scene there is a whole culture based on age play. Age play is relationships or scene (scenes are a specific period of kink activity) where the pretended age dynamic is fetishized. In my recent relationship I am a little and my partner is a Big. What that means is that I play the young child complimented by my partner’s role of the adult and parent. That probably seemed random but I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently and would say that my age fluidity is a part of my gender construction and why I reject being called femme. When I think of femme I think of proudly worn and plump rouge lips, bold black eyelashes, pumps on pedicured feet or in a designer purse, smooth nails, on a women that is on their way to a bikini waxing. I am a little-girl way more often then I am femme. I express my femininity by coloring pictures of cute animals, dressing up as a princess, and picking pink before all the other colors.

Probably my first fetish was having a silicone dick which was a realistic way for my high schools self to envision the possibility of getting a real dick, which I really felt I needed. Nowadays I like having a cunt a lottttt but at one point I genuinely didn’t. I guess it was some high school phase for me but I can’t deny that it didn’t exist; it is integrated in my gender’s history.

Just because I’m feminine does not mean I’m a girl. I have been recently trying to figure out why I am a feminine girl sometimes and a feminine boy at other times. I guess the possibility that sometimes my gender flows into a flamboyant feminine male turns me on and makes me feel excited about my gender– it gives me peace of mind, which is really what most gender definition is about. Other times, I feel my gender flowing into an innocent girl child, and most recently I have been exploring being a dominant and seductive by reenacting the confident dark femme-fetale, which has been really exciting for me. And other times I flow to a person who’s gender doesn’t really have anything to say about their personality at all.

Also, I find that how feminine I am really depends on who I compare myself to and what kind of definition of feminine I am using. To expand, when I’m in the androgynous queer kink scene I feel REALLY cisgendered. Like ‘oh why don’t I think I’m cis, I’m so normative compared to everyone’. But when I’m with my family, which has a more traditional housewife idea of feminine, I feel really masculine and really groundbreaking for going to college and preparing a lifestyle independent from the possibility of having a long-term partner (/“husband”). So my gender tends to be constructed on a compare/contrast basis.

I am working through my gender’s quirks and build so there is still some exploration going on. I wouldn’t say that I have fully figured out my gender but these points are the body of it so far. On the other hand, I like female pronouns. I don’t really get insulted when people call me cis. I’m not really sure that I’m not cis. I know that calling myself trans can be a bit of a stretch. I’m kind of confused in the cisgendered/transgendered binary– cisgendered being someone who agrees with the gender that was assigned to them at birth and transgendered being someone who does not . I wouldn’t say that I disagree with being a women but I do disagree with the idea that my gender complexity ends with me being a women. I also disagree with the notion that because I am a woman most of the time I cannot have my own gender history, fluidity, and individual fingerprint.